


a completely unreadable book

by remremy



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: ACD Canon, M/M, Victorian Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 07:21:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11504469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remremy/pseuds/remremy
Summary: holmes is sleepy and watson is in love





	a completely unreadable book

"Oh, _Holmes_ ," Watson chides.

The man in question looks up, with wide eyes and a slightly guilt expression as he sets down the tube of _something_ in his hand.

"Yes, Watson?"

"I thought we'd agreed that you wouldn't touch the brown stuff again. You fainted the last time."

Holmes scoffs. "I did not _faint_ , Watson. I was simply. Knocked unconscious," he says, turning his nose up a bit.

"That is the same thing," Watson says as he passes behind Holmes and into the sitting room.

"It is _not_ ," Holmes insists. Watson raises and eyebrow and turns around to sit in his armchair.

"It is and you know it."

Holmes _humphs_ and sits in his own chair across from Watson. He notices Watson smiling at him. " _What?_ " Watson's smile just grows and he picks up the top newspaper from the pile on the floor, flicking it open, blocking Holmes' view. He sighs through his nose, picking up his violin and scratching out a few notes. He stands and paces, holding his violin at his neck but not playing anything. He taps the bow on anything that comes within reach, the desk, an old tea cup, his Persian slipper, empty for now, even Watson's head, at which point the bow is taken out of his hand and the violin is lowered. Watson stands in front of him.

"What's wrong Holmes?" Watson asks gently, plucking at his sleeve and leading him to the sofa.

"Why would you ever think that something is wrong, my dear Watson?" Watson sits beside him on the couch.

Watson gives him a look and toples Holmes into his own lap, combing his fingers through his slicked-back hair. "You are more easy to read than you would like, my dear," Watson murrmers.

"I am _not_ ," Holmes protests, already half asleep, curling closer to him.

"Mm, of course love. Tell me what it is when you wake up?"

"There's nothing to tell, m' _fine_. And it _is_ true, John. I am a _completely_ unreadable book. Completely." He sits up enough to push Watson onto his back and climb on top of him, snuffling into his neck as Watson plants a kiss beside his ear.

"Alright, alright, sure. Go to sleep."

" 'M not even tired, John."

"Of course you're n-" he's cut off by a loud snore.

**Author's Note:**

> this has been in my drafts for 3958270 years and i feel bad for not posting any new chapters to "pick a star on the dark horizon" so have this old thing


End file.
